


The Completely Heterosexual Hug

by annabeth_at_the_helm



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Blanket Fic, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, piercintyre - Freeform, technically infidelity, ye olde fun trope fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_at_the_helm/pseuds/annabeth_at_the_helm
Summary: It's winter in Korea. Hawkeye doesn't think his balls have ever been as cold as they get in winter in Korea.





	The Completely Heterosexual Hug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadesofhades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/gifts).



> Because I was texting shadesofhades last night and I wondered, why haven't we written the Completely Heterosexual Hug for Warmth that turns into Something More between Hawkeye and Trapper?
> 
> So, this morning I did.

It's winter in Korea. Hawkeye doesn't think his balls have ever been as cold as they get in winter in Korea. He shuffles over in bed, trying to get more comfortable without moving too much, lest he let in a needle of freezing air.

They have a stove, and it's kept pretty well stocked with things to burn—Frank's letters from his wife, Frank's extra toilet paper, Frank's stock market notices—but it barely makes a dent in just how frigid Korea can get in the dead of winter.

Speaking of—well, thinking of—Frank reminds Hawkeye that while he feels like his very toenails are going to turn into icicles, Frank—the lucky bastard—is at a medical conference in Tokyo. In a warm hotel room. As if that will help him be a better surgeon, Hawkeye scoffs silently. He's not sure, but he thinks Trapper is asleep.

"Hey, Hawk," Trap says suddenly, and Hawkeye imagines that just the warmth of his breath is enough to just barely brush some heat over his eyebrow. So, not asleep, then.

"What is it? It's too cold to talk. Every time I open my mouth I'm afraid my teeth will freeze and crack."

"I was jus' thinkin'. If I were home in Boston, an' it were this cold? I'd just roll over and hug my wife."

"That's nice, Trap. Really. I bet your wife would appreciate it. Alas, I do not, seeing as I can neither hug your wife nor go home." He wishes for long johns again. Tomorrow he's going to write his dad.

"I'm just sayin'." Trap exhales and shifts and the cot makes a metal groaning noise. Even the cots are so cold, Hawkeye is afraid they'll just snap into pieces at some point, even though logically he knows that isn't true. After all, they were designed for all kinds of weather and to be in tents. Though it wouldn't be the first time the army fucked up.

"You know what, Trap? As long as you don't mistake me for your wife, I'm game." Because why the hell not?

"Ya wanna hug for warmth?" Trapper asks, as if incredibly skeptical. "Ain't that a bit to the left, if'n ya know what I mean?"

"It's just because it's so fucking cold," Hawkeye says reasonably. "When we warm up, back to our own beds!"

"Ya wanna hug for warmth, in as straight a way as possible, in Frank's bunk?" Trapper is beginning to sound more amused than skeptical. "I don' know, Hawk. Sounds kinda suspicious to me."

"Ah-ha! You, as always, have hit on my great plan. Use Frank's bunk, and then we can laugh about it later—you know, two homosexuals walk into a tent, and immediately lie down in the bunk of the straight guy!"

"'Cept I ain't a homo, Hawk," Trapper says. He's back to sounding less amused, though he definitely liked the idea of fucking with Frank.

"I know that," Hawkeye says. It's very important that if they do any, say, spooning, that Trapper be the big spoon. Hawkeye _thinks_ his dick is much too cold to be that warm, but Trapper's got the dreamy hazel eyes, the thick blond curls, and gorgeous overbite to his smile that has done Hawkeye in since every crush he's ever had ever. And of course he can't let Trapper know about it.

"And ya know, I don' think Frank is as straight as he wants us to think. Seems pretty far in the closet, ya ask me," Trapper says doubtfully. "He got Hot Lips an' all that, but y'all saw him around George. Pretty sketchy."

"That's all right. I'm not worried about Frank, Trap. You and I are perfectly comfortable in our completely heterosexual relationship that we can have a completely heterosexual hug for warmth and not be threatened in the least." Is he laying it on too thick? Will Trapper start to question his motives? After all, he's never been quite sure if Trapper took his cues about George, or whether he would have done the same as Hawkeye without Hawkeye having to say anything to him.

Sure, he'd seemed totally normal over it, and their staged fight to trick Frank had proven to Hawkeye that Trap wasn't a homophobe, but how much of that is picking up subtle cues that Hawkeye may have left lying around? Jesus, does Trapper suspect that Hawkeye's not quite as much of a straight arrow, but one that bends a little to the left?

But he can hear shuffling, then the sound of Trapper's boots as they hit the ground. Seems like this is really going to happen—Hawkeye rolls out of his cot, still wrapped tightly in his blanket, and he and Trapper are suddenly eye to eye, except Trapper's gaze is on the immaculately made bed of their erstwhile tentmate and fellow surgeon.

"Ya know, this idea looks better all the time," Trapper remarks. "Imagine sullying Frank's bunk with homo germs. Ya ready?"

"One of us is going to have to unwrap," Hawkeye says, gesturing from beneath his cloak of blankets. "Want to do the honors? Unwrap me like your Christmas present?"

"Oh, jeez," Trap says, rolling his eyes. "Why do I even put up with ya?"

"Because of my winning personality? No? Oh, you must be shallow. Because I'm cute?"

"Shut up, Hawk," Trapper says, quickly grabbing his arm and pulling him close. All of a sudden they're touching, and they manage to crabwalk over to the bunk, where Trapper sits on the edge and yanks Hawkeye down, then, a corner of blanket in each hand, he wraps his arms around Hawkeye.

Hawkeye is immediately engulfed. Fire licks along his nerve endings—a welcome change from his previously frozen ones. Trapper is hugging him very tightly, his face even buried into Hawkeye's neck—well, pressed up against Hawkeye's scarf.

"You know—"

"Don' talk, I'm warmin' up an' ya are gonna make me cold."

"That makes no sense," Hawkeye says, and Trapper squeezes him. He's definitely warming up. "You know," he continues, "this huddling for warmth thing works better if we're naked."

"Not on your life," Trapper says, "I ain't takin' my clothes off when it's this cold."

"Spoilsport. What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm relishin'," Trapper says. "I ain't been this warm in months. Turn a little, Hawk." But he doesn't really wait for permission; he just shifts Hawkeye—who knows he's tall, but also very sparely built, with narrow hips and narrow shoulders, a lanky build that meant he was never very good at football, unlike Trap himself—until they're facing each other, with Trap's thigh half thrown over Hawkeye's lap. Shit. That's not good. Time for a joke! his monkey brain says, jumping up and down with a limp banana.

"Trap? You're mistaking me for your wife." If he's not careful, the delicious warmth of Trapper's hard, strong, beautifully built body will in fact wake up things better left hibernating for the winter.

"No, I ain't," Trapper says.

"That's not a piece of red hot firewood in my belly, Trap," Hawkeye says, aware— _too_ aware—of something very large, hard, and hot pressing into his belly.

"Just shut up, Hawk," Trapper says. He suddenly pulls on him, and they tip over until they're lying in Frank's bed, facing each other, with the not very well concealed secret of Trapper's attraction like the giant dildo in the room.

"I'm not your wife," Hawk says, and to his surprise, his voice comes out vulnerable.

"I know," Trapper replies. "I ain't a homo, Hawk, but there's somethin' about ya I just can' resist."

"It's too cold for me to do anything about that, you know," Hawkeye points out rather unnecessarily, he thinks.

"Ya don' hafta. I'm fine. Jus' let me hold ya, kay? I never thought this would happen."

"I knew it! I have the _best_ ideas," Hawkeye crows in triumph. Trapper actually nuzzles underneath his scarf and _bites_ him.

"Ya have an ego the size o' Korea, is what ya got," Trapper mumbles against skin gone faintly sweaty from the heat of Trapper's body and the knowledge of Trapper's attraction. Trapper hasn't—

"You're not concerned I might try to push you off or punch you?" Hawkeye asks curiously, and Trapper huffs out a laugh.

"Hawk, if ya were any less obviously 'completely heterosexual' as ya put it, ya'd be in the stockade already." Pause. "Plus your dick is sayin' hi to mine right now, in case ya hadn' noticed."

"Oh, trust me, I noticed," Hawkeye says dryly. "But you just seemed awfully comfortable with the idea of our completely heterosexual hug turning into more of a homosexual fraternization than expected."

"Hawk?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to sleep."

"With your dick giving me a five star salute? Are you kidding? Also that thing is huge, Trap. Like it needs its own tent here in Korea. I think if I try to sleep you might stab me to death with it."

"Nah, I like ya too much. It's fine. I fed it one of our rats this morning."

"That's appalling."

"That's what ya get for not goin' to sleep like I said. I'm drowsy, Hawk. An' there could be choppers any time. I'm up for rest, not fuckin'. Or murder. Ya'll be safe." Trapper yawns as if in evidence of this statement, and Hawkeye lies there in silence for a moment. Then:

"What are we going to do about this?" he asks. "I really didn't think I was going to have a queer encounter in Frank's cot, as amusing as that is."

"We'll keep it a secret, o' course. Now seriously. Shut up and go to sleep, Hawk."

"All right."

This time he closes his eyes and does what he's told.


End file.
